


Doubts

by Titti



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-09
Updated: 2005-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their mother's death, Don tries to understand Charlie's reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doubts

I can't believe Dad decided to go bowling. Of course, he might have just lied to see our reaction. He doesn't think I know how he thinks, but I do. Mom used to sit with me, and talk about Dad, explaining me how his silences are about love, strength, and inability to show any weakness.

I never understood why Mom would put up with it.

She's probably having a laugh now. Sitting in heaven and watching me feel for Don what she felt for Dad. Okay, so maybe she's not really laughing, but I know she'd understand why I need Don so much.

"Charlie, are you listening to me?"

Oh, yes, Don is talking to me, asking me for the umpteenth time about my clearance. He doesn't really expect me to answer. Just like when we were kids, he would ask me the answers to his homework, knowing that I wouldn't give them away, but asking anyway. I wouldn't answer him because it was wrong, and he would have been disappointed if I had. He loved the fact that he could get the answer on his own, proving that I wasn't necessary.

Except now, I am. I thought that it would bother him, that it would break us apart. I was wrong. Maybe we've both grown up.

"Charlie?"

"Do you mind me working on your cases?"

Don frowns. "Where is that coming from?"

"You don't like my help. You told me as much a few weeks ago."

"I know...I'm sorry. What you do is...the help you give us...it's invaluable."

That's my Don, not really saying that he doesn't mind, but knowing that it's important, and admitting it. It's a compromise, and we've both learned to live with it.

"So will you tell me what did you do for the NSA?" Don asks me again.

I want to laugh, dismiss the question like I used to do with his homework, but I can't. I want to tell him so much, and I'm being selfish, because I'm not looking to quench his curiosity. I want to tell him so he can make my pain go away.

I used to work on numbers, something I loved, but now I see the people behind the numbers, and it frightens me.

I get up without saying a word, carrying my plate to the kitchen. I start washing the dishes, because it gives me something to do, but I can't stop thinking. I'm so immersed that I don't hear Don come in until I feel his body pressed against mine. So warm, so familiar, and I immediately lean back. "It was different." My voice sounds even lower the usual, thick with self-guessing.

Don closes his arms around my waist. He's protective that way. "You don't have to tell me," he whispers in my ear. His lips are brushing against my skin; it gives me goosebumps. It's so easy to get lost in him, but I turn around and face him. "It was numbers, you know? I saw data, but..."

"You never saw the sick people that made up the data...or whatever it was," Don finishes for me. He knows; he always knows.

I pull at his shirt, until my hands find their way under Don's clothes, resting on his skin. "I don't know how you do it. You have incomplete data, make assumptions, and hope that you're right, and if you're not, people die."

He shrugs, but I can see he's surprised. I've never voluntarily admitted that he's better at anything; he hasn't either, and I still haven't, at least technically, but Don knows what I mean, knows how much I admire him for the courage he has. "It's my job," he says like it's nothing.

"And you do it well..." I would have said more if Don hadn't decided to start kissing me. Not that I mind, not in the least. When his hands slide down my body and rest on my ass, I moan. Good thing dad isn't home.

"Wanna go out?"

Did he just ask? "Did you just ask me..." I look at him confused. I thought we were starting something here.

"Leave a note for Dad. Tell him we're going out, and you'll stay at my place," Don says, searching for his keys. He's not looking at me, but I see the smile on his face. What's going on? I'm the genius, I'm supposed to know, I'm....oh, OH!

"Took you long enough," he says, chuckling, and walking to the living room

I lock the door, and scribble a note for Dad, posting it on the refrigerator. "Do you know Dad wants me to find a girlfriend? I told him I'd post him a note when I found someone."

Don peeks his head inside, before stepping in. He closes the gap, until he has me pinned against the refrigerator. "Tell him you're too busy," he growls in ear. He's possessive as well, but considering the way my body reacts, I'm not complaining.

"We're going to go to my place, we're going to get very naked, and then I'm going to fuck you like I never can when we're here. You can moan, scream, make as much noise as you want, and we won't have to worry about Dad." Again his lips are so close that they brush against my ear, tingling all the way down to my cock.

"I..." I clear my throat, because my mouth went suddenly dry. "I like that."

"Good." Then, he draws back, and he's looking at me, smiling kindly, my face nested between his hands. "You can do anything, Charlie, anything. You're stronger than you think." Just like that. Totally unexpected.

I stare at Don, and I manage to get out a mere 'Thanks'.

Don nods before stepping away. I walk after him, and get in his car. He barely looks at me while he drives, but I know he's aware of what I do. I smile, and he smiles back. With him at my side, my doubts go away. At least, until the next time, but I know that he will still be there to chase them away.


End file.
